Baker Street's Misfits
by A Girl With An Idea
Summary: Five teenagers somehow meet by fate while on community service and are forced to work together. However on a particular stormy day, their whole lives are about to turn upside down and normal life and community service wouldn't be as easy as they hoped it would be. Relationships develop into the course of the story. 2013 update: Abandoned story that's been improved.
1. Chapter 1

Southmere lake lay in the hearts on Thamesmead around South East London. Everytime John looked down from his window down onto it, it never failed to impress him. It was a large scale of water, which carried on for miles on end. His flat was on the 20th floor and since the elevators were out of order, John had to walk down the stairs today. He didn't want to go to this thing they were making him go to, it wasn't even his fault. He just trusted the wrong people. His summer was being wasted by having to report for community service to do 'good deeds'. Well, that was how court put it to him, it was an excuse for people like them to order other people around. To him, life was like that.

* * *

Molly was running towards the plain, seemed to be abandoned, building infront of her. She was 5 minutes late, but you couldn't blame her for that. She had her reasons, everyone has reasons. Even though doing community work was one of the most boring things you could ever do, she understood why she had to do it. It was completely her fault, she was responsible so she had to face the consequences. But that was one of her low key points, she could never say no and she had the attention span of a goldfish. She didn't even notice that she dropped her phone behind her.

* * *

While putting his headphones into his ears, Greg sat down outside of the changing rooms and waited for other people to arrive. He knew others were coming and didn't really want anyone he didn't know walk in on him mid-changing. When his father found out about him doing community service, he flipped. He never saw someone so angry. His dad was mainly disappointed with him because he knew that Greg wanted to work with the police. It wouldn't look good on his CV.

* * *

Sally had one more lap to do around the lake before she would turn herself in. It sounded awful when she put it like that, but that was how it felt to her. When she ran, she felt all of her bad memories and memories yet to come melt away. But when she stopped, it would all come back to her. Running is what got her into this mess. She could have done something, but she didn't. She didn't even explain herself, but did she have to?

* * *

A black car pulled up outside of the building, and it stayed there for quite a while. It wasn't parking, it was waiting. Waiting for an impatient Sherlock to get out of the car and to do the job he was told to do. He never had a spot in his heart for the government, but his brother did. His brother was practically the government itself. Getting into one little argument caused him to lose his reputation with most of his family. His family was brought up well, some say too well, depends where you're from. A month of community service with the most boring and stupid minded people he could ever meet? This summer is going to be more boring than he had imagined.

To be continued...

* * *

Okay, so that was just a quick overview of the main characters without giving much away. Of course, I don't own anything and if I did, I would be laughing. Both shows are great in their own way which is why I love them so much.


	2. Chapter 2

The locker room was deserted. Nearly every wall was covered with long, metal lockers; all identical with the one or two with dents and scratches. A mirror stood at the end of the room where just one person could stand to see their entire reflection. Not long after, two boys walked into the changing rooms with bags over their shoulders; neither of them were speaking. One had blonde hair and was nodding his head along with the music he was listening to. The other one had sandy blonde hair that was ruffled in all the odd places. He thought it was weird that the other guy followed him into the room when it looked like he could have gone before he got there.

"I'm Greg by the way," said Greg as he opened his locker and chucked his bag inside.

"John Watson," said John, even though he knew Greg wasn't listening. Both of them were given orange jumpsuits that made them look like criminals. He stared at them with a look of disgust. Greg had the same look on his face and with great force, he slammed his locker shut.

"If they think I am going to wear fucked up shit like this then they're wrong!" said Greg as he stormed out of the room, leaving John in there, thinking about what just happened. He knew they looked pretty messed up, but he wasn't going to risk getting another month on community service. Just as John put his right leg through the trouser part of the jumpsuit, a girl walked in; practically breathless. She had her hair sticking out where it shouldn't be; her cheeks were red from, what John assumed, was running and her bag was open with various bits of clothing hanging out.

"Am I late?!" she asked as she practically ran towards a locker closest to the mirror.

"Um, no," said John as he did the same with his left leg," I'm John, since we're getting to know each other,"

"Molly Hooper," she said with a warming smile, but soon the smile dropped when she realised the number of people in the room, "Is it just us?"

John couldn't help but laugh, "No, why?"

"No, it's just-" she paused, "Never mind, it doesn't matter,"

She pulled out her jumpsuits without any complaints and started to put it on; John did the same. So far three people have occupied three lockers; they didn't know how many more there were to come. Considering it was summer, it was quite cold in the room. Soon enough, Greg returned from the probation workers office with a face that was even more flustered with rage than before.

"That bitch thinks she's in control of me she has another thing-" he stopped when he noticed a girl who stood next to John, "Didn't know there was anyone else,"

"Yeah, I just got here," she said as she zipped up her jumpsuit; walking up to Greg, "I'm Molly,"

Greg's uptight face turned into an artificial, warming smile, "Gregory Lestrade. But you can call me Greg, everyone does,"

"So," she said, her smile still not leaving her face, "What are you all here for?"

"Well," said Greg, "Mine is kind of a long-"

Greg was cut short but another person walking into the changing rooms. She didn't acknowledge their existence just kept to herself as she walked towards her locker. She had black, frizzy hair that was tied into a tight bun that sat at the top of her head. From the look of her, you could tell that she had just been running but she wasn't breathless. Just like Greg, she looked just as angry with the orange jumpsuits.

"Fuck my life," she said as she put it on; she then said without turning around, "Hello Molly,"

Molly didn't reply to her, she just kept to herself and returned to the mirror to study her hair. Molly's welcoming smile, turned into a sad, regretful one. Greg was immediately attracted to this newcomer; he stood up straight and moved himself towards her.

"I'm sorry," he said as he held out his hand, "I didn't catch your name. My name's Greg,"

"Look, I don't care what your name is. I am here to do community work which I think is a waste of time," she said as she pushed past him, "Not to make friends with people like you,"

"People like me?" asked Greg, returning to his original self. John and Molly were in the corner of the room; they looked at the pair of them who were stuck in a whirlwind of insults.

"You know, guys like you who think they are fucking amazing at everything,"

"Well, I hate to brag-"

"That's the thing though!" she turned back round to face, "You love to brag! You get off on bragging, you men are all the same!"

"What do you mean 'all the same'?"

"You think you rule this fucking planet, but you're just a waste of space!"

"I'M THE WASTE OF SPACE,"

"Everyone," said John as he stood in between the conflict, "Calm down, for god's sake!"

"John's right," said Molly as she joined the group, "You both don't know what you're talking about. Sally, you're just angry,"

"Look Molly," said Sally as she stormed towards her, "I don't think you want to tell me what to do, do you?"

Again, Molly retreated back to her locker. She decided not to get caught up in this mess, she wasn't that kind of person.

"Fuck all of you. I am leaving this hell hole,"

She stopped in her tracks when her and everyone else noticed a figure in the entrance. Everyone knew who he was. He knew who they were. He had black curly hair that covered most of his forehead. He stood straight and wore a tight black suit made of silk that obviously didn't fit him. He stared at us with disbelief; Greg and Sally kept their mouths shut and returned to their lockers while Sherlock walked to the locker further away from the rest.

"Who's that?" asked John to Molly.

"That," said Molly as she tried to find her phone, "-is Sherlock Holmes,"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thanks to 'jenpix', I've decided to revisit this story and to change it. I've now given the story a plot; I'm going to introduce new characters and I'm going to develop relationships and destroy them also like they do in Misfits. So thank you jenpix for this. I hope readers enjoy this improvement :)**

* * *

Today wasn't the exact weather to paint over worn out benches, but it seemed that- according to the probation worker- it was necessary and that there was 'no way of getting out of it'. A couple of people wanted to have their say but after half an hour of pointless complaining and throwing of swear words, the probation worker somehow managed to convince them all to go into pairs and start working on one bench at a time. Luckily the paths were rather quiet, so none had to suffer facing anybody they know whilst wearing old jumpsuits with the colours worn away.

Everybody decided between them that Greg, Sally and Molly would work together- as there were only five of them- and John was willing enough to work with Sherlock; somehow this seemed like a bad idea, as everybody was giving him words of comfort towards him, which- he thought- weren't necessary.

The two groups were spread out on a small section near the edge of the lake: Greg's group were located in the far corner underneath a set of flats and across from a group of industrial bins while John and Sherlock were just two metres away from the lake; the bench they worked on was out in the open and wasn't as damaged as the others.

John looked over at the other group and saw all three of them work on the bench-even though Greg protested for a while by barricading the community centre doors- and this made John envious, as all Sherlock did was stare at his phone screen while constantly dipping the paint brush into the tin.

"Uh hello?" he said, waving his arm that held a paintbrush, "Are you going to get off that phone and help me? Or are you just going to sit there and act like a stuck up twat?"

The reaction John was expecting was for him to put his phone back into his pocket and help him, but instead Sherlock turned his head around to look at John and shrugged before looking back at his phone, "I'm not here to do work John Watson. I'm simply here to serve my time and then once it's over I would return back to sanity."

"Ha, you're joking right. So you're just going to sit there and do nothing?" he asked; Sherlock hummed as if to say yes, "Well then, I hope you won't be disappointed if your 'lovely' suit somehow ended up at the bottom of the lake?" This got a reaction out of Sherlock, as he stood up and paced up and down the bench without breaking eye contact with John.

"You're here because you were forced to steal from a shop by your friends and when the shopkeeper caught you they left you like slaughter while you took the blame. You were injured while trying to run out of the shop and you still feel pain now. You think this would look unacceptable when you apply for medical school as you want to become a doctor- now wait-" Sherlock stopped so that he was standing right next to the right hand side of John, "An army doctor, to be precise. Just like your father was."

For a moment John was speechless, but also growing rather impatient with Sherlock. However he couldn't deny it: what Sherlock has told him was the most impressive speech he heard today, "That. Was. Amazing. Absolutely amazing."

This also took Sherlock by surprise, "That's not what people normally say."

"I guess not, I mean you did just tell me my life story in a nutshell. I bet when you say it to other people you get a smack in the face and a kick in the balls."

"Not really." said Sherlock, who returned to sit beside John, but was closer this time as they both faced the bench with their backs to the lake, "Well, most of the time yes. I was going to say that people usually say 'piss off'. Actually, a high percentage of people say piss off to me."

"Well, I'm impressed anyway," John returned to paint the bench as Sherlock returned to his phone, "Hey! Wait a minute, you're still going to help me do this. I don't care if Sally called you a stuck up snob, you're going to help me-"

"Hey John!" called Greg, waving his brush in the air to get John's attention, "How's it going over there?"

"It's fine!" he called back, "I'm nearly done."

"Good for you, you lucky bastard. There's only two of you and three of us and we haven't even finished yet!" Greg stopped and looked over at Sherlock. Putting his paintbrush down, he held his left hand towards his mouth in hope that John would only hear him, "Is Sherlock being a dick?" he called, however it was still loud enough for Sherlock to hear.

"No, he's-" John looked over at Sherlock who was still ignoring everybody else, "He's just on his phone, anyway it doesn't matter what he's-" Immediately John stopped calling over to Greg as the probation worker appeared from behind a wall on John's side; everybody continued to do what they were doing before besides Greg, who chucked his paintbrush into the tin.

"Steven, we've been out here for hours. I could suffer a heatstroke and then I'd be put in hospital. And to me that sounds like a bad thing to have on that CV of yours. Oh yeah, I worked as a probation officer but then got fired for sending a helpless teenager to the hospital-"

"Shut up Gregory. You're doing the same thing as everyone else is and you don't see people complaining," Steven turned to look at John and put on his 'calm face', which is what Sally calls it, "John Watson, you're fine aren't you?" John nodded repeatedly, "There you go Greg, it's just you acting like such a wuss. Get a grip of yourself!"

For a while all Greg did was stare at him as if he had constantly sworn at him while saluting him with a middle finger. Once he calmed down, Greg brought up another topic to argue about, "And anyway, not _everyone's _doing their work. Shirley over there is on his phone and I would like to make a complaint about that. You took _my _phone from me so I don't see why he should have him."

"I hate to admit this even though I detest you so much, but you're right." Steven made his way over towards Sherlock and-from the other side of the bench- held out his hand, "Sherlock, you're here to do some good deeds. Not to sit around on your arse all day and do fuck all. Now give me the phone. If you don't I have no option but to report it."

In that moment, everybody stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the pair have an intense staring contest; with John feeling like he was in the middle of it all. When the probation officer made a move circle around the bench, Sherlock bended the upper half of his body to face his side as he held his phone up high and chucked his phone far away into the water as he could.

Everyone was left dumbstruck; even Greg had nothing to say about what Sherlock did. The probation officer took one look at Sherlock before turning back to face the other way, "Everyone back to work. I'll be back in a couple of hours." he said, straightening himself up before walking back inside the community centre.

"Holy shit Sherlock, what the hell did you just do?" John whispered, looking over at Greg who was still shocked, "That phone looked like it costs an arm and a leg!"

John was about to comment more about what Sherlock did when they both heard a ringing noise coming from Sherlock's pocket. Without any explanation, Sherlock reached into his pocket and-to John's amazement- pulled out the same phone he held just minutes ago, "I'd rather die that give up this phone. It holds many things that are important and potentially dangerous and I would never let it get in the wrong hands, so that's why I carry a fake phone. I knew Greg was going to mention it to the probation worker even before he arrived, so I quickly swapped them while Greg and him were talking."

"Wow." was all John had to say. Overall he was more amazed that Sherlock would carry around two phones-one fake and one real- around him all the time; it was as if Sherlock was asking people to mug him, "Do you do stuff like that all the time? I mean carry around fake phones."

"I did during my school years and I still do it now." Once Sherlock typed out his text, he put the phone back in his pocket and continued to soak the paintbrush with white paint without doing anything else.

"Well, that is something you don't see every day." replied John, who finished painting one section of the bench. Suddenly John was eager to ask Sherlock many questions that he needed answers to, but felt rude to ask. Although when he looked over at Sherlock and saw he was doing nothing still, he decided to ask, "Um Sherlock, you know all those things you said about me? Well they were true. All of it and I just wanted to ask how did you-"

"John!" called Sally, who was holding up a bucket filled with a cream coloured water, "Empty this bucket out will you?"

"Ask Greg to do it!" he said, but he still got up from his seat and walked over to the group; forgetting about what he was going to ask Sherlock.

"Well I could do. But I didn't want to ask Greg, I asked you. Anyway, you're nearly finished. We're nowhere near." she said, also getting up so she could hand the bucket to John.

"Do as the lady says John." said Greg, who had a smug grin as he looked in between the pair, "For whatever she wants she will have."

"Shut up Greg." said Sally, who continued to paint the bench. It was the first time in hours that he could look at all of the three of them together. Sally and Greg looked like they would rather be somewhere else while Molly looked like she was stuck in a cage filled with monsters.

Nevertheless it didn't matter to John as he thought it wasn't his concern, so he held onto the full bucket with both hands while turning and walking back towards the community centre. Today was rather interesting, even though he would rather spend his summer holidays differently. There was a problem with that, as his idea was to spend it with the 'friends' that left him behind at the shop. Both of his parents said they would never trust him with them again, and a part of him had to agree with them.

As he turned the final corner before reaching the buildings doors, the probation worker appeared suddenly next to him and blocked the path with his large, muscle built body; making it difficult for John to pass him without spilling the water.

"John Watson. You shouldn't be here. Go back to the others now." he said, pointing forward towards the lake. There was something strange-John thought- about the probation worker than what he was like only minutes ago. Moments ago he didn't look like the trembling state he was in now. The man in front of John was shaking violently with his eyeballs rolled to the back of his head as- what John believed- white foam appeared in the far corners of his mouth, "NOW!"

The first reaction would be to listen to him and walk back to the rest of the group, but for a strange reason he didn't do that and just stood where he was; it was like the probation worker's state was attracting him in a bad way. John looked up at the sky and realised how incredibly fast the sky had become dark, as if it was night when it was actually one o'clock in the afternoon. The wind around him grew stronger and violent as the need to breath grew more desperate, "I- I ne- need to emp- ty the bucket, sir."

The probation worker didn't reply to him; instead he continued to shake in a vigorous manner while his head was tilting from side to side. They were both so close that John could see the stream of veins beneath the other man's skin: pulsing and growing larger. The breathing of them both grew more heavier, as John was too petrified while Steven looked like a completely different man.

Unexpectedly, the man stopped shaking and stood still; his face looking up towards the ash filled sky. When John took one step back, Steven's face was facing him; his eyes still rolled to the back of his head. But when John decided to take one more step, his eye balls were now facing towards John with such anger and rage. The green irises they once were had now turned a ferocious shade of red.

Straight away, John dropped the bucket and turned to run from the probation worker; hoping to make an escape. However, Steven was still following him at a slower pace but still at a vicious manner. Never once did John look back, the only place he ran to was where everybody else was.

Turning the corner, he saw everyone standing up in a group; looking up towards the changing sky. When John's steps were heard, they all turned their gaze to look at him instead. All looked pleased to see him but that soon faded when they realised that John was running towards them while shouting something they couldn't hear.

"What's he saying?" said Greg, who stood in front of the group, "What are you saying?!" he called to John. Again, nobody could hear what he was saying from him being so far away. When he finally got close enough, they all heard John's cry and froze in their places.

"RUN!" he called, dodging past benches and bins to reach them, "JUST RUN!"

"What!?" called Molly, who stood beside Greg as if he was a shield, "Why-"

Rapidly, the probation worker appeared from behind the corner and was running at a fast pace towards them. Neither of them could take their eyes off Steven as he was jumping on and over bins; now and then using his hands as extra legs.

"RUN! RUN! RUN!" called John who ran past them; grabbing Sherlock by the arm to drag him along, who was so close now and so loud that everyone stopped looking a Steven and turned to run shortly behind John and Sherlock, while still being perused by the rabid probation worker, "JUST RUN AND DON'T LOOK BACK!"

None of them wouldn't dream of looking back, only a mad man would. All five of them ran down the bank: John grabbing Sherlock by the hand, Sally following close behind them while Molly and Greg ran close together. Each one not caring that they were going out of breath as the fanatical probation worker appeared closer and closer towards them.

Soon they all reached a dead end that was blocked by an apartment complex. Instantly John thought this was the end to his short life, as everybody else thought the same. Little did they know that the dusky, bone chilling shy they were afraid of moments ago would just about save their lives.


	4. Chapter 4

There was nowhere to run for them. Nowhere to hide. When they all saw the large building blocking their way up ahead, they tried to look for anything: shortcuts, alleys or even people. Anything that could keep them safe, but there was nothing. There was the option of jumping into the water, but then Steven could easily follow them in; there was also the problem that Molly and Greg couldn't swim.

"Fuck! What are we going to go?!" called Greg to John who was leading the way, "You're taking us to a dead end."

"Well I don't know!" John answered back; still clinging onto Sherlock arm, "Why don't you lead the way then, eh? Since you seem to know everything, why don't you take us somewhere?"

"You know what; I don't care if I can't swim. Let's just jump in the water!" He started to run closer towards the bank before Molly pulled at his arm as she started to lead the way.

"No!" she shouted at him, "There must be another way out of here besides jumping in."

Now they were only meters away from the dead end, but that didn't stop how fast they were running. To them, the further away they were from Steve, the better, even if that meant reaching a dead end. All five of them were huffing and puffing; out of breath but didn't stop to take a break; nobody in their right mind would when being chased by a raging adult man.

John and Sherlock were the first to slow down when they reached the wall and turned back around to watch the others. Luckily, they dodged Molly and Greg before they had a chance to run into him and to push him against the wall, as they were closer than John thought. Sally came in last and leaned her whole back against the wall to catch her breath before their next action.

"Why the fuck would you lead him here anyway John?" Sally asked, taking a breath for each word, "You didn't think of taking him somewhere else, away from the rest of us?"

"Well I didn't know. I didn't have time to think while someone like _that_ is chasing me!" he held his hand out towards Steven in the distance, who was still running towards them, "What is he anyway?"

"Is he like one of those zombies out of 28 days later?" asked Greg, "I saw that film, it was scary as shit. But why isn't the government here then, if there's been a zombie outbreak?"

"Don't be so dull Lestrade." said Sherlock, who released himself from John's hand and walked closer to the probation worker, "He isn't a _zombie_. There was foam forming around his mouth. He had red eyes. Fast movement. They're clearly symptoms of rabies-"

"But he was fine a minute ago. Why is he like this now?" said Molly, walking closer towards Sherlock until she stopped to look up at the sky, "Uh, guys? Wha- What's happening?"

All of them looked at Molly before looking up at the sky also. A large, black cloud formed behind the tall buildings and was growing rapidly in size. Even though it was far away, they could still see the strikes of lightening it formed while it moved closer towards them. After a flash of light, a large eruption of sound echoes time and time again around them; it was so loud that it sounded like it was the building about to collapse of them all.

Out of nowhere, a large object appeared from behind the clouds and was heading towards them is such rapid speed that they all ducked down to shield themselves. From their eyes, it looked like a large block of ice the size of three cars stacked on top of each other travelling at the speed of a plane. Half it landed into the water while the other half that parted itself came into contact with the building above them; changing from one to many sizes of ice chunks that were falling from above.

They all took shelter in the far corner of the combined walls, however Molly wasn't fast enough, as one of the ice bricks came into contact with her shoulder and she yelped out in pain before limping her way over to the rest of them. Once all of the ice pieces had landed on the floor, they retrieved from the corner and walked towards the bank again. Many large pieces of ice were flying around the lake and into it also as the cloud got closer until it was finally above them; along with the strikes of lightening.

"Where's the probation worker?" shouted John over the echoes of thunder. Due to the incredibly colossal cloud, it was harder to point out anything in the distance.

"John has a point. He would have reached us by now!" shouted Sherlock to the rest of them.

All of them hoped that the cloud would pass them and move onto somewhere else; leaving them and everything returning back to normal again, however the cloud wouldn't move. Not like it had done from the building far away, the cloud just hovered over them while continuing to send chunks of ice down on them. They weren't as large as before, however there were many more of them coming down. What did grow-however- was the size of the lightning and how close the bolts were getting towards them. Everyone didn't move as they were all shocked from the whole matter.

"What the fuck is happen-"

Greg didn't have time to finish his sentence, as he was cut short. Somehow his whole body was lifted off the floor at an incredibly tall height and was flung closer towards the cloud and the lightning strikes, just like everybody else was. Everyone was in the same position as he was: high up off the ground and closer towards their deaths.

* * *

If you had ever been struck by lightning and just so happened to survive on the basis of pure luck, you would know that the experience isn't as exciting as many people believe. Imagine bolts of electricity pumping itself into your body; into your veins and charging itself around you and wrapping you in a blanket of charge. That was how-not just Greg- but everybody else felt as they were sent meters above the ground.

Everything seemed to go black around them while their bodies were lit up from above. They also felt like this whole ordeal was going in slow motion, making every bolt of charge or every jolt in their body as long and agonising as it would have been.

However, there was something odd about this. There wasn't the feeling of just electricity through them, but they felt themselves change also. Not in a sense that their whole body was put in pain, but that somehow the lightning was changing the way their whole bodies worked.

It was like the bolts were changing their DNA patterns; the way they think; the way they live. Like the lightning was going to change their whole lives forever.

* * *

Suddenly, everything stopped around them and soon they were plummeting down back onto the ground after having masses of electricity shot through them all. Each one landed simultaneously on their backs down onto the wet concrete floor. From this there were several cries of pain as some landed directly on small, ice cubed shaped pieces that were broken off from the boulder of ice.

All of them were able to look up from where they lay and saw the cloud starting to move again and disappear behind the building; taking with it the dark skies; thunder and lightning. For a moment, nobody said anything, as they were all taking this moment to catch their breaths again.

"What. The Fuck. Was that?" asked Greg, who sat up; using his hands for support behind him.

"I don't know." said John, who followed his movement, "Sherlock, any ideas?"

If there were people taking to him, Sherlock couldn't concentrate on them. His mind was aching and his pulse was throbbing through his veins. Slowly, he heaved himself up with his forearms and brought himself up into a sitting position; rubbing his temple in hope to relieve himself from the pain, but it wasn't working, "We should be dead." said Sherlock.

Everybody took this into thought. Sherlock was right, they should all be dead. Just minutes ago they were all struck by lightning; they could feel it. The question on everybody's minds was why were they still breathing? Still alive?

"Maybe that wasn't lightning." said John, who suddenly jumped up faster than the rest and looked around them for signs of the probation worker, "I don't think the probation worker would hide away if it was. Maybe he's seen something like this before and knew what would happen, so just hid away until it passes."

"Good point." said Sherlock while heaving himself up onto his feet and looked around with John, "There was something odd about that storm. We should have been dead. We're still alive. Giant boulders of ice nearly killed us but we're still here. There's also the fact that the size of those ice rocks can't possibly come from that cloud, no matter how large the cloud was."

_Good point._

"Yes I thought so." said Sherlock, "Now I assume the probation worker would still be here. My advice would be for everyone to get up so that we can all look for somewhere safe."

Surprisingly-no matter how much everybody seemed to hate him- everyone listened to him, so the rest got up onto their feet and all were now standing close together. It was John who first started walking in front of the group; followed by Sherlock and then the rest of them. Then John said, "Right, all we need to do is just head back the way we came from and then if anyone sees a door to one of the buildings then we'll go in. There must be some people who can help us."

"With what?" asked Sally.

"I don't know. We need a phone, I guess so that we can call our family and tell them what happened. Or call an ambulance if anyone needs it. Or even the police. Sherlock, do you still have your phone on you?" asked John. Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone to turn it on. John reached out his hand for it, but Sherlock didn't hand it over and instead looked at his phone in awe, "What's wrong?"

"It's still working." said Sherlock whilst flicking though the folders on his phone, "Usually when lightning strikes it affects all electronic devices, but mine is still working."

"So what John said might be true?" asked Molly, "That it wasn't lightning? Then what was it then?-"

"Oi! Guys, I found a door." said Greg who had stopped shortly behind them and was looking at a door to a block of flats, "Why didn't you just run into here John instead of running to dead end?"

"I panicked." said John, who stopped and walked towards him, "I'm sorry if I was being chased by rabid probation worker. It's not like I say that every day."

Everyone was now gathered around the door while constantly looking around them for any signs of Steven. "Okay, the coast is clear. Everyone go in." said John, walking over to the door for everyone to walk in. Walk may not be the right word; since everyone was eager to get indoors they all made a run towards it and entered the building at the same time while pushing past each other. Sherlock was the only one who didn't do that and waited for everyone to move out the doorway before following them. Once John checked the bank one more time for Steven, he entered the building and closed the door behind him.

Molly and Sally were sat down on the far ends of the floor, making sure there was a large distance between the two; Greg took a seat on the bottom of the stairs; and Sherlock stayed stood whilst still looking over his phone.

"Well," said Greg, resting his arms across his thighs, "That was fun."

"Fun? That wasn't fun, that was mental." said Sally, reaching her hands into her thick, curly hair and pulling on them, "It's all good saying we can call the police John, but who is actually going to believe us? We'll be sent off to the mental house if we tell anyone-"

"So you're saying we should keep this a secret?" asked John, looking over to Sherlock. This caught his attention as he was also looking up at Sally and putting his phone away, "But what happened to us-"

"Sally's right." said Molly, "I- I don't want everyone in town to think that we're all crazy. We should just keep it a secret."

"People already think you're crazy Molly." said Sally, who was looking rather smug.

"Wha- What did you just say?" asked Molly.

"What I said, is that people already think you're a psycho. After what you did that day, a lot more people think that way about you." said Sally. Now they were both standing up; Molly was crouching away while Sally was moving just closer towards her, "You were a psycho for listening to Anderson and me in the first place."

"Shut up." she whispered.

"Hey Sally, knock it off will you?" said Greg who was now standing up and heading towards the pair, "Now isn't really the best time to talk about this."

"No I think it's the perfect time. It's your fault that he's not with me anymore, because of your fucking gob. You had to go around and tell everyone what we did and that's why we're here, because somebody heard-"

There was a loud banging sound coming from behind Sherlock and John; they both turned around quickly and their eyes stared in horror. Somehow the probation worker had found them and was now trying to smash his way into the building. Whilst everyone was screaming and shouting nothing but curses, John and Sherlock ran to the door and barricaded it with their own bodies.

Greg led Sally and Molly away from the door before joining John at the door and barricading it also, "What are we going to do?"

"Just find a way out of here, you too Sherlock. I'll hold onto the door until you find a place we can go." First nobody made a move to look for another way out, and this angered John even more, "Are you listening to me? I've got the door, just go look for another one!"

Greg listened this time and was now running towards the stairs and heading up towards them and out of sight. Sherlock-however- didn't move away from the door and only stared at John who was holding the door close with no difficulty.

_Why isn't he going yet? Why is he just watching me?_

"You can't hold onto the door yourself and soon enough those glass windows won't hold on forever-"

"I don't care Sherlock! I've got the door. You need to find somewhere now before it's too la-"

Unfortunately what Sherlock said happened to be true, as the glass windows had now smashed and a large arm was appearing out of the gap. The glass hit both of them before landing onto the floor and dropping around them. Behind them Molly squealed in fear as she joined Greg upstairs; soon after Sally followed behind.

The probation worker then grabbed John's shoulder and clenched on with all the strength he had. The pain did send shockwaves through his body, but even as his hand still held on harder, John didn't scream out in pain or even let go of the door. All he did was hold the door close with the left side of his body whilst looking up at Sherlock who was also looking down at him.

_Jesus Christ, I'm going to die. All I did was steal from a shop. It was only a bottle of cider. People have done far worse. Why hasn't Sherlock left with the rest of them? Why is he still here? ...I don't want to die._

"John you're not going to die." he said, holding the door closed with the right side of his body more harder; his eyes burning into John's confused ones, "I'm still here because you need help, since everyone else has left, you've just got me. Now, stop going on about how you stole a bottle of cider and just hold the bloody door shut."

John didn't have enough time to ask how Sherlock knew all those things, as the arm which was pinned to his shoulder had now crawled up to John's throat; locking him tightly in place. Usually if somebody was in a position like John was now, then they would be gasping for air whilst trying to grab at the person's hand around their throat. John didn't do any of that; he didn't even try and remove the hand, however there was one thing John felt: He felt scared. More scared than when he was cuffed by a police officer; more scared than when he got home from the police station.

_I don't want to die, Sherlock._

* * *

**Author's Note: Dun. DUN. DUUN! So yeah, some of you may guess what's happening to some of the characters already, which is fine. If not, then all will be revealed next week. Thank you for reading and following the story :)**_  
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